Wednesday, June 4, 2008

Poetry Of The Day

Baseball is etiquette made beautiful.A quality pitch is fact, not rumor;style is high. Do they say to the dangerous batterwho has walked, "Joe, take first?" Never, never.The catcher, tall as fate, looms over,his mammoth hand held high,and the ball thunks his glove in perfect logic,before the batter tosses his bat.And when a batter trots back to triumphant home,does he get his high-fives only from thosewith whom he has a beer?His worst enemy, if he has one,is perfect in ritual; even in home glorythe pattern holds until the parkis emptied of the ball.The famous three-movement, velocity, location—are sacred and do not bow. When the dark takes the diamondand the unforgiving brown circle of loneliness,a covenant has been confirmed.